


The Devil's in The Details

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: You are a fugitive who has sought protection from the Interdimensional Criminal Protection Organization. Rick Sanchez is a crochety old bastard who, thanks to some cruel twist of fate, is now your roommate during your stint in hiding. Many shenanigans ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

The Intergalactic Federation Prison was not high on your list of vacation destinations, and so it was with great reluctance that you’d sought protection from the Interdimensional Criminal Protection Organization. It was surprisingly easy to sign up, all it required was a digital copy of your rap sheet forwarded on to their corporate offices along with a blood sample. Bureaucracy may be a bane to the existence of the entire multi-verse, but this group was astonishingly efficient, providing you with a location and a means to your safe harbor after deducting the requisite one million flurbos from your illegal, off-planet account. Parting with the coin had been painful, but you decided, ultimately worth it, as the heat you’d gathered from your last jumbled heist had proven too much to shake, even with the usual fallbacks.

You’d arrived at your destination, duffel bag in hand, the alien craft depositing you unto this unknown world before lifting off into the atmosphere. Sighing, you observed your temporary abode. While content, you were also trepidatious. Domesticity had never held your interest, so this entire situation left you wondering how long it would take for you to go entirely mad over the next four weeks as you waited out your self-imposed jail sentence.

As you passed through the doorway and into the hall, the first thing you noticed was how normal everything appeared, so sterile, so Leave it to Beaver. It had been years since you’d had what you could call a proper home, so this perfect point of calm, suburban bliss felt foreign, uncomfortable. It made you itchy, irritable, the washed out beige walls and mundane collection of furniture reminding you of a life you would rather forget.

The second thing you noticed was the smell.

It was sour, wafting in from the living room. It brought to mind dive bars, stale whiskey and BO, and you followed it, wrinkling your nose as it got stronger with each passing step. When you crested the edge of the couch, you peered over just to jerk back with a shout of disgust, a hand leaping up to cover your eyes.

“Oh - oh god! Oh my god! Gross!”

Draped along its length was a man of at least 70. He was snoring quietly, drool pooling beneath one cheek, his strange, wiry limbs akimbo across the cushions. One hand rested on the floor, palm up, the neck of a mostly empty bottle of liquor cradled against it. None of these details had made you recoil, however. It was the fact that he was completely naked, his thin ribs and narrow hips on display, his large, flaccid cock lying between his legs like a fat slug, which had drawn out your wail of repulsion.

Unsure if you should wake him, but also no longer wishing to assault yourself with this unwanted lesson in geriatric anatomy, you skirted around the edge of the couch, eyes upraised. You toed at his outstretched arm, hoping the movement would cause him to stir. But when he didn’t budge, you started to yell.

“Hey! Hey, old man. Can you get up and put on some clothes!? ”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shot open, his hand striking out to grab your ankle. You screeched and tried to pull away but his grip was absolute and before you could react he was already on top of you, pinning you to the floor. His eyes darted back and forth across your face, his foul breath falling on your cheeks and making you gag. He growled through clenched teeth.

“W-who the fuck are you?”

But you weren’t intimidated, and you shifted one leg up underneath and kneed him in the crotch, headbutting him when he fell forward. He roared in pain and anger, but released you, allowing you to wriggle out from beneath his weight and scramble to your feet.

He cradled his sore genitals, the fury in his expression palpable as he glared. Your weapons had been stripped from you before your placement here and you felt exposed, vulnerable as you waited for his next move. Rather than answer his query, you had one of your own.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here? I paid a fortune for this place. The coordinator didn’t tell me I’d have a roommate.”

At the mention of the Organization, he huffed, his shoulders slumping, eyes rolling. He stood, revealing his cock once again, making you groan with annoyance at is obvious lack of modesty. Once he was upright you couldn’t help but notice the way he towered over you, his gangly limbs and large hands making you suddenly feel small by comparison. Burping, a loud, raucous sound, drool dribbled out over his lip. He scratched absentmindedly at his bare stomach. Finally, he spoke.

“Th-the name’s Rick. Rick Sanchez. Welcome home.”

Over the next few days, you did your best to avoid your unwanted housemate. The man was disgusting, shameless, spending most of his time either drinking or dismantling random bits of electronic equipment only to piece it all back together into new and extraordinary devices. It was one of these little inventions, a robot that followed you around while flinging insults at you in his voice, that finally made you confront him.

He was on the front lawn, shirtless, reclining in a small canvas chair, a beer in one hand. A leg was kicked out, that long limb making him appear even larger in his diminutive seat, as if he shouldn’t really fit and had been folded into it instead. A small radio sat on the grass, tinny music pouring from the speaker. You recognized the tune as one from the 70s that sang about pina coladas and making love in the rain. Watching him tap his foot to the beat, you waited for him to acknowledge your presence, before finally realizing that was pointless. So you spoke up.

“Rick. It’s 10 in the morning, you really need a drink right now?”

He turned to face you, bringing up the half-empty bottle and chugging it, draining the rest in one long gulp as his Adam’s apple bobbed in the slender column of his neck. He never broke eye contact.

“Ye-eerrrugh-es. I do. W-w-what are you, my mother? Fuck off with your concern. I-I don’t want it.”

But you were tired, frustrated with his lack of couth and the inability to escape his raspy, grumbling voice. That damned robot even tried to follow you into the bathroom.

“Ok… Then can you please do something about your little toy? It’s driving me nuts. I’m gonna break it or I’m gonna shove it up your ass. You pick.”

But he just snorted laughter, his eyes dragging along your body, resting at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. His tongue poked out and wetted his lips, before he twisted them into a smirk.

“No. Y-you’re cute when you’re angry. Sexy. Y-you wanna shove that robot up my ass, do it. Might - might make this whole fabricated domestic bliss staycation thing we got going on more interesting.”

You tried to ignore the pang of heat you felt at his words, the way your cheeks burned. He thought you were sexy? But, no. Don’t think about that. Focus. He was trying to distract you from your original goal.

Placing as much power and authority in your voice as possible, you spat back at him.

“FINE. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up tomorrow and there’s a circuit board jammed down your throat.”

Stalking off, you could hear his laughter as he popped open another beer.

The next day, the robot had vanished, but in its place was something equally obnoxious. You’d stumbled into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, the first of many as even you could admit you had an unhealthy addiction, but when you reached for the pot it didn’t budge. Thinking it was stuck, you yanked harder but all that did was result in a painful, electric shock. It traveled up your arm to your shoulder, making the extremity go numb.

With a yelp, you jerked your hand back, shaking it, trying to get the feeling to return. You heard a chuckle come from behind you and you spun, glaring at Rick who was perched in the doorway like some kind of malicious gargoyle. He took a long pull from his flask before pointing at you, his face full of sinister glee.

“Shouldn’t - shouldn’t drink so much of that stuff. It’s bad for you.”

With a shriek you grabbed your empty mug and flung it, hitting the wall by his head where it shattered, the porcelain raining down in white shards. Rather than anger, the look he gave you next was one of keen interest, as if he were seeing you fully for the first time since you’d arrived in this hellish place which was ruled over by an evil troll of a man who took such joy in making you miserable. Rick grunted, nodding, his eyes narrowing as he inspected you.

“Y-you missed on purpose. Hmm. Sexy.”

You screamed your frustration at him as he walked away, his flask pressed to his lips, his middle finger lofted in the air.

That evening, you’d sequestered yourself in your room. Thanks to his prank with the coffee pot, your head was pounding from caffeine withdrawal and you didn’t have the patience to deal with his biting comments or churlish insults. You could hear him banging around - probably drunk - and as you listened your thoughts drifted. Naturally, they landed on him.

As much as it pained you to admit it, you were attracted to him, though you couldn’t say why. The man was vulgar, crude, he burped with intense regularity, looking to you for a reaction when they were particularly foul as if he expected applause. You weren’t sure how often he showered, not often enough by your measure guessing by the smell, and his hair was always a mess of glue-gray spikes. Drool ran down his lips and chin whether he was drunk or sober, if he ever truly was sober, and his breath always smelled like booze.

Yet none of this deterred you from imagining his hands on your hips, those long, deft fingers digging into the soft skin as he bent you over the kitchen table and fucked you, his fat cock splitting you open, forcing you take in as much of him as you could. Maybe he would reach between your legs and rub your clit to hurry your climax while you moaned his name. Or maybe he would prefer to stick it in your ass, his full length stretching you, that sweet pain too much at first, but soon sliding, transitioning into an aching need, as he made you beg for release.

Shuddering, you pushed away those thoughts, taking note of the sharp arousal that had pooled between your thighs. You fidgeted a moment, full of a kind of nervous energy, before finally deciding you needed a drink. Maybe the alcohol would help you sleep. It seemed to work for Rick.

The house had fallen quiet, his movements having ceased, so when you walked down the hall into the dark living room reaching for the light, you paused a moment, listening. Was that…?

Oh, no.

Frozen in place, the wet sounds made their way to your ear, the rhythmic squelching noise loud and obscene in the inky silence. Taking a deep breath, you flipped the switch, preparing to confront him.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. He was on the couch, his long legs spread wide, his cock hard and throbbing in one hand as he fisted it, his narrow hips rolling. Head thrown back, he looked at you once he realized you were there. He didn’t bother to stop as he made eye contact, his wide mouth twisting into a lewd grin.

And you, your stupid eyes, they couldn’t be controlled. Swallowing hard, you watched him, the way his hand slid along the thick shaft, the way the fat head glistened with lube and precum. You bit your lip and flushed, two bright pinks spots appearing on your cheeks, that previous spike of desire now blossoming, blooming into a desperate heat.

Rick noticed and took advantage.

“This - this show ain’t free, baby. Help me out or - or fuck off. I-i-if I like the way you lick my balls and suck my cock, I’ll eat your pussy when you’re done.”

Your breath hitched and you released an involuntary squeak. There was no denying how badly you wanted him, how much you would love to sink down to your knees between his thighs, let him stuff his cock into your mouth and fuck your face, just to swallow everything he gave you. But this was the same person who had also spent the last seven days torturing you with his ridiculous antics, making your life agony, all because he wanted to, because he could.

Rick could see the indecision written in your features, and he moaned, his hand picking up speed. He was purposefully exaggerating to get a reaction, enjoying the way your mouth had fallen part way open, the way your tongue came out to lick your lips.

“C’cmon, baby. This - it doesn’t suck itself.”

For some reason, that broke the spell.

Turning, you fled, incensed, your legs carrying you back down the hall to the haven of your room.

And right before you slammed the door shut in an attempt to stamp out that memory, to continue to deny your lust for him, that burning need he had somehow stoked within you, you heard his voice call out:

“YOUR LOSS.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Like what you see?”

Rick had caught you staring -  _again,_  dammit - and pulled an obscene gesture with one hand as he stuck out his tongue. He was naked aside from a towel draped around his scrawny hips, having wandered the house in search of you just to bask and preen in your discomfort like some kind of alcoholic peacock with a penchant for being an asshole.

Sticking out your own tongue was your first instinct, but you chose to rebuke him instead. You were aiming for commanding, yet your voice came out petulant, needy.

“ _Stop it._  I’m still dealing with the mental scars from the last time I saw you naked.”

That only made him snort laughter, your insincerity obvious, before he turned away, affording you a generous view of his scrawny back.

It was days later, after a morning of doing your best to ignore his existence while he did his best to remind you of it, the tension building under your skin, his constant, hovering presence making you cringe whenever he leaned in to brush against you, that you finally snapped.

Spinning on your heels to stand on tip-toe, you jabbed a finger in his face - a face which was entirely too close to yours.

“That’s it! Ok! Yes. YES!  _I like what I see._  I’m an idiot who is attracted to a gross old man who thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to make absurd objects like cursing robots and electrocuting coffee machines. A man who is so  _petty_  and  _bitter_  he’d rather isolate himself from the only other person in his life right now who is even a  _little_  bit willing to share space with him. So yeah. Yes.  _You win._  Fuck you, Rick. Kiss my ass.”

When you tried to flee he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back in place. Pressing in, his boozy breath hot on your skin, he searched your features, seeking the answer to some mystery only he knew. You stood there, perfectly still, unwilling prey in relation to his superior size and strength. He sniffed once then dipped down, his lips ghosting along your jaw and making you shudder.

“W-why do you think I don’t want you in my space? Maybe I want - want you aaaall up in it, right here, right now. Just filling up my space with y-y-your self-righteous indignation, your pitiful fury. You’re worse than a - a spoiled kid, you know that? All bitching and moaning but no action. ”

His free hand was at your hip and he rocked you forward, nudging you against his crotch and his forming erection. You tampered down a whine, still too outraged to submit, even though he knew this was exactly what you wanted.

“Hmm. In the mood to be difficult. I-I can see it in your pout, the way your eyes just- just buuuurn into me. Y-y-you’d turn me to ash with that look. If you could.”

It wasn’t until he leaned in, his lips dry and soft against yours, that you realized he’d planned this entire encounter.

He kissed you, and all previous resistance melted away. In its stead came a heat that fluttered and unfurled in your core. He nipped at your mouth, forcing you to open for him and when his tongue slid inside, his breath tasting of toothpaste and whiskey, you moaned, clutching at his shirt and pulling him closer with your free hand. Rick growled at your impatience, your impudence, the fingers at your hip now digging in, all sharp edges and corners, enough to make you wince.  

“Suck my dick.”

_What?_

But that hadn’t come from him, his lips were still pressed firmly to yours, his tongue running plush and hot, exploring the confines of your mouth.

“Kiss my ass.”

“Incompetent turd.”

“You suck.”

“Get me a beer.”

Oh,  _goddamnit!_

Breaking the kiss, you pushed, hard enough to make him stumble. For the first time, you saw his scalding confidence, that immense pride,  seem to sluff and fall off, your abrupt rejection having caught him unprepared. He looked vulnerable before his defenses re-aligned, giving you a fleeting glance at something deeper, but it disappeared too quickly, leaving him glaring down at you.

Your voice was ice. “Rick… What did you do with the robot?”

But he knew it was a rhetorical question and didn’t respond.

“No, wait. You know what? _Nevermind._ I don’t care what you did with it. Stay away from me. For the next two and half weeks. You just… You  _stay away_.”

Rick’s expression was inscrutable, but his hand on your wrist had become a vice, squeezing and grinding the bones together. His voice was low, dangerous.

“Stay away from you? Y-y-you little piece of shit! Be grateful I even acknowledge your existence!”

With a yank he spun you around, pinning and trapping you against him, back to chest. His wiry frame belied his strength and though you struggled you couldn’t break his hold. He used your captivity to shove his free hand down the front of your pants, making you shriek and jerk your hips back where you met his bulging erection.

His fingers dug down under the waistband of your panties, found your clit, making you whine, before slipping further, further to slide into your wet pussy. As much as you wanted this, as loudly as you sobbed when he started to move, his long fingers opening you, stretching you, this was a fight you had to win. Glancing behind, you aimed your heel over the top of one foot and slammed it down hard, making him grunt and fall forward enough to allow you to jam the elbow of your free arm into his side. He made an “Oof!” sound, his grip on you loosening just enough so you could twist free. It took all of your self control not to immediately punch him in the nose once you were face to face.

“I’m not some helpless damsel you can just manipulate and push around, you old bastard! Maybe if you bothered to learn anything about me rather than trying to make me miserable all the time you’d know that!”

Rick was hunched over, hands on his knees. He looked up at you, panting, with one eye shut - and then he started to laugh. It was just a chuckle at first, but it soon changed, transforming into a raucous, full body sound that made him shake.

You were lost, confused by this strange man, his absurd actions. He was an odd puzzle of incomplete pieces. Nothing fit together yet he still maintained his shape.

“Who are you, Rick?  _What_  are you?”

His laughter petered out, followed by a hiccup that slid into a belch. Then like a snake he struck, his hand wrapping around your throat before driving you both to the floor. Nose to nose, you could see the fury, the fire and madness that existed within him.

“You want to know what I am? I-I’m a goddamn - a natural disaster, baby a - a fucking walking, talking tornado. Yeah, I’ll take you for a ride but I-I-I’m gonna destroy your life in the process. Just - just suck up everything you love and turn it to ruin.”

At the end of his rant he smashed his mouth to yours, his teeth nicking your bottom lip and breaking the skin. You tasted the copper of your blood and then you were keening, your back arching to his touch as he ground his cock into you. His hand was once again in your pants, but this time your defiance was spent, and so when he slipped two fingers into your cunt you moaned, your hips rolling up to meet the wanted contact. Rick abandoned your lips for your neck where he bit you hard enough to earn a yelp, only to soothe over the burning brand with his tongue. He spoke as his fingers curled inside of you, moving and beckoning, finding that hidden place and making you whimper.

“Haven’t you - don’t tell me you didn’t notice there’s no one else here but us. T-this entire fucking planet is  _empty._  And I-I-I’m the _reason.”_

At his words you froze, your mind flashing with panic as you realized he was  _right._

Rick sensed your hesitation, your horror, and then he did something you weren’t expecting - he withdrew from you completely. Standing, he stuck his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean before offering you his other hand and pulling you to your feet.

Once you were level, your clothes back in place, there was only one thing you could say.

“What did you do, Rick?

With a grunt he turned around, motioning for you to follow.

“C’mon. Y-y-you’re gonna need a drink for this.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Week 3**

“Time travel is a paradox, i-i-it’s bullshit science, and as a rule I don’t fuck with it. Too much - a lot of potential for something to go completely tits up, but this time I thought - I thought I finally got it right.”

Rick was sitting across from you at the tiny kitchen table, the two of you passing his flask back and forth. Whatever foul liquor was inside made you wince with every swallow, but you maintained, listening with rapt attention.

“All the - on paper the math was perfect, every calculation. I-i-it should have worked, buuuuut time is - it’s a  _motherfucker_  and so of course something went  _wrong_. When I started the device, it was supposed to shift  _me_  out and into the timeline directly adjacent, but instead it shifted  _everyone else_.”

Fiddling with the lid of the flask, you considered his words while you took in your drab surroundings. There was peeling wallpaper, the cabinets were scuffed and dented in certain places, the counter top was a cheap Formica.

“Rick, how long have you been here?”

He laughed, taking the flask, his fingers brushing yours.

“Y-y-you mean how long have I been stuck in my own personal version of  _Groundhog Day_? A few weeks, at least. Everything - the clocks stopped working, and my portal gun is a  _paper weight_. It wasn't until you arrived that - that I realized I wasn't completely lost.”

But he wasn't finished, tilting the flask to drain the final drops, squinting up, scowling at its emptiness.

“Y-your arrival is - was - it means that whatever - whatever thread of time I managed to unravel  _exists somewhere_. Basically, wherever  _you_ exist.”

You nodded in understanding. While your personal knowledge of time travel was limited, you grasped the concept he was trying to present, Rick had landed himself here entirely by accident, but it was a ‘here’ where he wasn’t actually alone, as much as it had seemed that way to him at first. However, you had more questions. Most specifically:

“Why? Why did you did it? Try to mess with time? Especially if you’re telling me you usually avoid it?”

There was no hesitation in his answer.

“Money.”

Quirking an eyebrow, you waited, expecting a more thorough explanation, and with a groan, Rick sat back, kicking his long legs out in front of him, folding his arms. He didn’t want to tell you. It was obvious.

“Y-you paid a pretty good chunk of change for this place, right? With the uh - the Organization? This house, i-it belongs to my  _daughter._  I-I registered it hoping to earn some extra cash. Buuuut, I-I knew she wouldn’t be too happy with some of the more uh -  _undesirable_ elements that would be walking through the door. Ya know, eating all the food, clogging the toilet, stinking up the guest bedroom. So, I-I-I had the idea to shift the place one timeline over. Keep everything all niiiiice and separated. Nothing - no discernible differences. Obviously, it didn’t quite work out that way. Though, uh - I-I-I expect to see those million flurbos in my account whenever the hell I get out of here.”

During Rick’s monologue, your mouth had fallen open, your eyes going wide. But you couldn’t help it, and once he’d stopped, the laughter bubbled up from inside of you - at him, at the absurdity of his idea, this situation,  _everything_. After a moment, you heard him chuckle, a low raspy, sound that rumbled his narrow chest. The two of you made brief eye contact over the table before the giggling petered out into companionable silence.

“ _Jesus_ , Rick. You are a  _complete_  bastard, you know that?”

But he just shrugged, waving away the insult with one hand.

“I-I-I’ve been called worse.”

His eyes never left your face, and he appraised you a moment before sitting up, leaning forward over the table, closing some of the distance between you. Tilting his head to the side, Rick cataloged the way your pupils dilated in the low light, how your eyebrows furrowed, just slightly, as you watched him move. For a heartbeat, you thought he would pounce in an attempt to finish what he’d started earlier - and you realized you were holding your breath in anticipation, that desire already creeping in - but instead he stood, smirking, and walked towards the kitchen.

There was the sound of him rifling through cabinets, and then he brought out a bottle of whiskey, three quarters full. Carrying it back to the table, he handed it to you, where, without comment, you unscrewed the cap and took a drink before passing it over. After a long pull, he spoke.

“So. Tell uh - tell me about yourself. Who are you. W-why did you rent this place?”

Unaccustomed to his curiosity, the question caught you off guard and you tripped over your words for a moment before finally settling in, your leg bouncing, your eyes cast down.

“Uh well. I was -  _am_ \- a thief. A good one, too. Good enough that The Federation has my name on more than a few watch lists, and I’ve seen my face on screens throughout the galaxy. The reason I had to duck for cover is thanks to a fucked up heist. We were hired - my partners and I - to hijack some spacecraft that contained a rare element, something called isotope-876. But when our team arrived, it was an ambush. Someone had ratted us out. There were ten of us total. Only myself and one other person made it out alive.”

You paused, taking another drink from the bottle which Rick had handed over while you were speaking.

“So, once all that shit made headlines, I may not have been Public Enemy Number One, but pretty sure I was promoted to Number Five at the least. Figured it was time to get the hell out of dodge. Ghost it up for a bit. The Organization was the obvious choice. The rest you already know.”

The alcohol was beginning to make you feel a little dizzy, that familiar buzz warming your skin, filling your head with its low hum, and you had to resist the urge to crawl into Rick’s lap, or to run your fingers along the length of the table and reach for his hand. Chewing your bottom lip, you squeezed your thighs together, squirming around in your chair. Though you attempted to be discreet, Rick noticed because he noticed  _everything_ , and he reached to take the bottle back, his unibrow quirked up at one end, his mouth a twist of amusement.

“Preeeeetty sure you’ve had enough there, baby. Give that - how about you let the professional take over?”

You felt yourself flush at the sound of his voice, at the endearment -  the note of delight you heard in his words making your arousal burn just that much brighter.

“Um. Yeah. Right. You’re right. I should stop.”

He grunted, a low, gravelly sound, and then lifted out of his chair just enough to reach and grab your wrist, which he pulled. Stumbling slightly, you rose with little hesitation, allowing him to deposit you onto his slim thighs. Already, you could tell you were slick between the legs, and Rick wasted no time stuffing a hand down the front of your pants, his fingers sliding into your pussy. Grumbling into your neck -“ _Mmmm - so we_ t” - he started to fuck you with his hand, his thumb finding your clit, making you buck and whine.

“ _Rick!_  I - wa-wait- “

But he ignored your words, focusing instead on your small moans and sounds of pleasure, the way your hips rolled up to meet his palm. His deft fingers worked you open, and you clenched around him as his muttered a stream of filth made your eyelids flutter, your lips part.

“I-I-I’m going to bend you over this shitty table and - and fuck you. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for  _weeks_. Every time I jerk off, I-I think about how your tits look when you walk around with no bra or - or the shape of your ass and how I-I want to watch my cock slide in and out of it. You like that don’t you? I-I-I know you do. I can feel your pussy squeezing my fingers. Go on. Cum for me, baby - “

Your release took you, washing out the sound of his voice, making you wail and your head fall back as your entire body arced to him, to his touch. Rick studied your face as you came undone, as that moment of bliss unfurled, and rolled through you, making your cheeks flush pink and your eyes squeeze shut. When your sense was finally restored, Rick had already removed his hand, sucking his fingers clean. He was breathing rapidly, his narrow chest rising and falling in quick succession, and you could feel the length of his cock pressed against your thighs.

Grinding down onto him, you savored his grunt, the way he sucked in air through his clenched teeth, but you knew his patience was waning, and so you stood, bending over, giving him a generous view of your ass. He wasted no time, the chair skidding before crashing to the floor so quickly was it he came to his feet. Those large hands gripped you, pawing, pulling at the waistband of your pants while you wriggled your hips to assist. When at last you were fully exposed, he groaned and bent, burying his nose in the lips of your wet cunt, his tongue diving in to taste your slickness. This wasn’t what you wanted, yet you didn’t stop him, instead pushing back against his face as he lapped at you, your desperation to be filled and fucked mounting. Finally, you could take it no more.

“Rick,  _please_.”

Asking twice wasn’t necessary as he’d already unfolded to his full height. You heard a clink of metal which was his belt buckle and the zip of his fly, and then he was rubbing the fat head of his cock along your slit, gathering that moisture.

“I-I got a big dick, baby, thick. I hope you’re ready for this.”

All you could do was whine your sweet misery, willing to accept whatever he had to give. It wasn’t until he started to push inside you, your body stretching to accommodate him, that you realized his warning was valid. Fingernails digging into the surface of the table, you sobbed as he forced you open, the sting bright, palpable. You willed yourself to be still as he sunk in, not stopping until he was buried completely inside your cunt.

“ _Nnff_  ffuck you’re -  _so tight._ ”

With those long fingers digging into the flesh at your hips, he started to fuck you, his movements tempered at first. But once your whimpers changed to breathy moans he picked up speed, your ass slapping against his thighs. Collapsing forward, you pressed your cheek to the surface of the table as you listened to his grunts and sounds of pleasure, his thick cock pushing you open with each thrust, jerking you forward along the wood. Snaking a hand between your legs, you rubbed your swollen clit, making yourself clench, trying to push yourself closer to the edge. Rick noticed and encouraged your inevitable downfall, never losing his rhythm.

“Ffucking greedy little  _slut_. Y-y-you wanna cum again? Do it. Lemme - say my name this time.”

Wanting to obey, you swiped, your hand already slick with your moisture, and after a moment you felt your second orgasm build and crest before it crashed into you, Rick’s name bursting forth from your throat in a guttural howl. He gave you no time to recover, fucking you back open with each vicious thrust, far too concerned with his own pleasure now to give care to your comfort. But it didn’t take long before his movements started to stutter along with his words as he neared his climax.

“I-I’m going to fuck you stupid for the next two weeks and - and tomorrow y-y-you’re going to take my cock up your ass. I-I want to know what you sound like when I - when I - fuck you in the ass - oh _fffuck -_  “

Rick’s words trailed off into a formless groan as he started to cum, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he filled you. It wasn’t until you had the presence of mind to look up after you’d caught your breath, the final waves of bliss ebbing away in the afterglow of a good fuck, that you noticed something was… different. Squinting at the shadows in the hall, you pointed a finger and screamed.

“Who - Rick,  _who is that?_!”

There was a loud “WHA-?” from behind you as he processed your words, and then he was cursing loudly, pulling out of you, tucking himself away. He stomped into the hall and grabbed the shadow by its shoulder, hauling it into the light.

“What - what the _fuck_ , Jerry! How the  _fuck_ did you get here?!”


End file.
